The Huxley Letters: Writings of a Victorian Lady & Airship Captain - Part 1

29th January 1888

Several miles above Huxley Hall, Monsmere, England

Dear Mrs. Fairfax,

My thanks to you for responding to my advertisement in The Times. I must confess, I did not expect to hear from a correspondent all the way across the Atlantic – your cableless telegram was an unexpected, but most pleasant, surprise. In any case, I am delighted to begin this exchange of letters with you.

(In addition, I do hope your shopping trip was a pleasant one, and that you indeed managed to acquire that charming new hat. I am sure its radio tracking device shall prove most useful.)

I shall begin with my background. I was born Lady Clara Levick on 19th April 1860 – the daughter of William Michael Levick and Florence Rose Levick (née Gladstone), the Earl and Countess of Dawsbury. My sole sibling is my elder brother, Montague William Levick, whom from birth carried the title of Viscount Roewick. Our childhood, on the whole, was a happy one, but it was marred by the untimely death of our mother, who lost her life to tuberculosis when I was six years old. The few memories I have of her are most dear to me.

Montague attended Harrow, and later, Christ Church College at Oxford University. After his studies, he enrolled in the King's Royal Rifle Corps. Alas, in 1883, he sustained significant injuries during the Battle of Lahore, caused by some ungodly "heat ray" fired at him by those beastly Martian hordes... shortly before they were thwarted by our simple earthly micro-organisms. The whole horrific affair was one of many crusades fought during the Martians' failed invasion of the Raj.

His service to Queen and Country cost my brother his left arm, right leg, and a substantial portion of his torso, all of which were replaced with prosthetics of copper and clockwork. His face was also left permanently scarred... but mercifully, not so much as to render him unrecognisable.

Invalided out of the Army, Montague retreated to the safety and privacy of our family estate, Dawsbury Manor: broken both in body and spirit. I am told by the housekeeper, Mrs. Chattoway, that he now spends most of his time locked away in his quarters, ashamed of his mechanical appendages, and although he is five years my senior, he remains a bachelor. Plagued by nightmares, his screams can be heard through the manor halls in the still of the night.

As for myself, I attended Cheltenham Ladies College, and also hoped to study at Oxford – my college was to be Lady Margaret Hall. Sadly, all my hopes were dashed when Father fell into the deadly grip of a cancer. He grew ever more anxious to secure a stable future, and insisted that I marry an associate of his: Charles Humphrey Huxley, Earl of Monsmere.

I personally did not want to marry Lord Huxley, feeling no love for him whatsoever, but I felt a desperate need to appease my father, given the circumstances. Therefore, I accepted... and found myself, aged only eighteen, wedded to a man thirty-four years older than myself. Through this union, I became Countess of Monsmere, and moved away from my family home into my husband's estate, Huxley Hall.

Father died three weeks later.

Even now, after ten years of marriage, no romantic feelings appear to have developed on either side. We sleep in separate bedchambers, and our union remains unconsummated (God be praised!). Naturally, this means I am childless.

To speak frankly, even if Huxley has a willing spirit (and I most certainly do not), the flesh is subpar. Decades past his prime (if, indeed, he ever had one), and blighted by health problems. Just yesterday, at luncheon, he complained that the water in the carafe tasted "a tad fragrant". In all honesty, I felt in no way inclined to tell him that he was drinking from the flower vase. (Blind as a bat.)

One joy amongst the many tragedies of my nuptials is Huxley Hall's vast and well-stocked library. Through its diverse texts, I sought to acquire the education that fate had denied me: becoming a keen student of science and mathematics. I began to toy with the notion of invention, and as I devoured stories of far-away nations, both within the Empire and beyond, I developed a longing to find freedom through travel: eager to leave the isolation of the Hall far behind me. In time, my desire grew so strong, it led me to the airship markets of Monsmere... where, with funds inherited from my father, I purchased my own vessel – the Aurora.

I sit in the cockpit as I write, hovering blissfully above the Huxley Hall gardens, free from all cares... and, even more importantly, from my husband, who cares little for knowledge and intellect, and far prefers to spend the days hunting and shooting, in spite of his poor eyesight. (He's put bullets through three windows this month, and the valet once found him firing his rifle at the carp in the fish pond. He still missed.)

As I currently man the vessel single-handed, I can just about manage short trips over nearby villages and such. It puts some distance between myself and my prison of a marriage, but it is still not far enough for me. I long to take the Aurora on a real voyage someday, but for that, I shall require a crew...

Yours, with warmest wishes,

Lady Clara Huxley

Countess of Monsmere, Captain of the Aurora